


A Flowering Adventure

by lauraxtennant



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Period Drama AU, Regency Romance, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraxtennant/pseuds/lauraxtennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU, inspired by the works of the wonderful Jane Austen. Set in the 19th century, this is the story of Mr John Smith and Miss Rose Tyler, who meet and become fast friends. Society and its prejudices will test their bond, but will love prevail?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a somewhat acknowledged truth in the little town of Leadworth that Miss Tyler was the most wonderfully charming young lady to have ever walked the Earth.

Granted, she was a stubborn young lady, too, but it was of very good opinion within the area that such a feature enhanced her witty disposition and handsome figure rather than lessened them. Indeed, her remarkable take on the world and the air of friendliness, openness, and honesty which she displayed upon meeting any person — whether they were of consequence to her social standing or not - placed her to be one of the most desirable women across the county. And this was a grand achievement, in light of where she came from in life, in comparison with her supposed contemporaries.

"That Miss Tyler," Mrs Jackson, a woman of a great propensity for gossip, began to Mrs Jones one Sunday on their return walk from church, "is sure to find herself in much trouble. She is so mischievous!"

They had just now borne witness to the aforementioned girl engaging in a fruitful discussion with the vicar, Reverend Golightly, about whether it was well within her rights to arrive late to the Church service, seeing as she had been conversing with God up on the hill in any case. Singing and dancing, no doubt, an elderly member of the congregation had muttered in disapproval, but the Reverend, struck by the girl's belief in her words and the unspoken apology written clearly in her eyes, had pardoned her.

"That is true," replied Mrs Jones. "And yet one can't help but like her. She is so...I'm not quite sure. I can't place it. She is different, indeed, has been since she was a little girl, and the young boys of the village are certainly taken with it, and yet...it feels like she doesn't quite belong. Far too outspoken and witty for any man to want to marry her; I fear she is run away with her feelings almost too much."

"Yes, I agree. It is lovely to see, now and then, a young lady becoming, dare I say it, more confident. But it will surely keep her single, no matter how much the males like her when they are young, for she would not make a very excellent wife when they are of age. And that is unfortunate, for she has such a pretty smile, and a thoughtful tendency to others."

"Hmm, yes. Although, that thoughtfulness for others, even those in the lower class, is what makes her so unusual, truly..." Mrs Jones considered thoughtfully as they came to the end of their journey together, before which they would go on in separate directions. They stood on the edge of the path, observing the congregation departing around them. "I suppose it is so because of the fact that she was not, strictly speaking, born a girl of the upper class society. It is the fortunate connections of her late father that allows her and Mrs Tyler to live on Mr Mott's estate."

"That is true, dearest. Very true. Very fortunate for her indeed, or else she would have become a serving girl, no doubt!"

"Oh, the idea of it! What a poor child she would be for that to happen. Although, she is always keen to help...alas, a lot of young girls today, well, aside from my own daughters, of course, are too content with vanity and ribbons and balls than to think of helping their mothers or indeed, anyone else."

"Ah yes. How wonderful it is that yours are sensible enough, Mrs Jones. And speaking of your daughters — how are the young Miss Jones and Miss Leticia Jones? Have they yet caught the eye of a wealthy prospective husband?" inquired Mrs Jackson curiously.

"Well," conspired her friend in a hushed tone. "There is hope from the pair of them that they may meet this new gentleman coming into Leadworth at Mr Mott's ball on Saturday. They are very eager to meet the new gentleman, an old friend of Mr Mott's, apparently, though I can hardly see how, as I have also heard the new gentleman is reasonably young, in his thirties, perhaps? In any case, there is excitement amongst all the girls in the neighbourhood, all eager to impress the new, wealthy man and hope to secure him! Of course, my girls have picked out their best clothes and are hoping to impress him the most. Think of it, Mrs Jackson - how wonderful it would be if one of them were to marry him!"

"You have not even seen him yet!" exclaimed Mrs Jackson light-heartedly. "He could be completely unattractive!"

"Unattractive? With ten thousand - perhaps even twelve! - a year, I hardly think the man's attractiveness would matter to any of the girls in the slightest," Mrs Jones chuckled.

"But it does help," Mrs Jackson noted with a smile, turning to leave.

"Of course," her friend agreed.

Mrs Jackson was about to nod her goodbye, when she suddenly thought, "You say he is to visit Mr Mott's ball on Saturday?"

"Yes," Mrs Jones confirmed. "Why?"

"Well, it occurs to me, my friend, that what with two young ladies already staying at the residence, even if the countless interested and interesting girls in the village were not to attend, your daughters have a little competition already, from both Mr Mott's granddaughter and the young lady we were earlier conversing about," Mrs Jackson pondered, not noticing the scowl her friend sent her way. "No matter, though," she shrugged. "As you say, your girls are pretty, free from vanity, and not in the least insensible, and I am sure in this their characters make up the same virtuousness as Miss Tyler herself."

And with that, Mrs Jackson wandered home, unaware of the seeds of doubt creeping into her good friend's mind about whether she did indeed like this young Miss Tyler after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Miss Tyler was lying in the grass next to the river, barefoot and in her old tattered dress, when she first met the gentleman.

From the great height he was at, simultaneously because of the hill he had found himself on, and the fact he was already rather tall - and riding a horse - he caught a glimpse of a young girl lying in the sunshine, her hand gently stroking a tired but seemingly happy dog. Her glowing features, accompanied with the soft tune she was humming, compelled him closer, and he could not prevent himself from dismounting his horse and greeting her, reluctant to miss the opportunity of meeting such a kind-looking young woman purely because society deemed it an improper introduction.

"Good morning," he murmured quietly, so as not to startle her.

Opening her eyes in confusion, Miss Tyler peered up at the man and horse before her curiously. Despite every second thought in her mind telling her it was proper to do so, she did not stand up; every first thought in her mind told her she was far too comfortable lying there in the warm sun.

"Good morning," she replied.

Amused by the girl's amused expression, the gentleman ventured further into conversation. "I do believe I am slightly lost," he admitted.

"Are you now," replied Miss Tyler with a teasing air.

Intrigued by her sarcasm, he spoke before she could realise her mistake and take back her impolite comment, "Yes. I'm looking for Chiswick House, and I saw you, Miss...?" he waited patiently for her to insert her name, but to no avail; she remained silent, her eyes fluttering closed again. He cleared his throat. "I saw you, and thought you looked kind enough for me to inquire the way."

Miss Tyler opened her eyes and turned onto her side to face him fully. "It is right in front of you, Mr Smith," she answered, her tongue poking from between her teeth as she smiled, suggesting to him that she was highly entertained by him being lost.

He looked up from her face, and realised with a start that she was correct; a large estate loomed into view from beyond the river, and he felt very silly - but strangely, not in the least embarrassed - not to have noticed or presumed it to be the very place he was seeking.

"Ah. Yes. Quite," he muttered. Then he realised something else, and grinned widely at her. "Miss...whoever you are; how do you know my name?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"The House has been expecting you," she explained.

"You live in Mr Mott's residence?"

"I do."

"Are you..." he trailed off.

"Am I what?" she prompted, staring up at him innocently.

"Weelll, as far as I know, he only has one granddaughter, and you aren't her."

"Aren't I?"

"You're fair-haired. She has auburn hair, I believe."

"She has indeed."

To her amusement, Mr Smith sighed. "I'm very envious. I've always wished I could have had red hair."

"Well, you'll certainly like Miss Noble, then," Miss Tyler laughed.

"You still haven't told me your name," he pointed out then, startling her a little by sitting down next to her in the grass and stroking Bessie the dog's back.

"This is Bessie," she informed him, removing her own hand when his got very close to hers.

"And that's Arthur," Mr Smith replied casually, nodding back towards the horse. He looked into her eyes deeply. "But who are you?"

She fought back a smile at the persistence of the man. "I'm Ro — well. Miss Tyler, I believe people have to call me, but my name is Rose."

Mr Smith chuckled at the mischief and defiance held in the girl's eyes; she was a creature like nothing he had ever seen before, of that he was certain. "Well, which should I call you?"

Miss Tyler pretended to consider this thoughtfully, resting a finger on her chin. "Well, perhaps until we are better acquainted, it should be Miss Tyler. And indeed, after we are better acquainted, is should be Miss Tyler also. It is all formalities. Even my friend's parents, Mr and Mrs Jones, still call each other Mr and Mrs Jones; and they have been married for goodness knows how long. Alas, apparently that is what is appropriate."

"Quite. Often, though, what is appropriate is rather boring," nodded Mr Smith, and she was struck with the realisation that this man, man, she was talking to as if she knew, or as if she could trust, or feel at ease with, though she'd only just met him, was going along with whatever she said; never once reprimanding her for speaking out of turn, neither did he laugh at her for talking nonsense, nor did he ignore her outspoken behaviour and ride off with a disapproving look. Indeed, he agreed with her, her thoughts on society that she daren't utter to many of her friends for fear they would scold her for it.

"It is," she said slowly, suddenly in awe of this conversation she was having.

"So perhaps, for now, while there are no others about — you are Rose, and I am John."

She once again fought back a smile, biting her lip in earnest. "That is who we are," she murmured. "John."

They stared at each other for a few moments in a peaceful quiet; both internally marvelling at the likeness they had found in each other's manner.

"Rose?" he whispered after a short while.

"Yes?"

"I'd just like to s - "

At this point, the gentleman was untimely interrupted by Bessie the dog jumping up between them and scampering off into the cool water of the river, having evidently grown too hot sunbathing.

"Yes?" Miss Tyler urged him on speaking, giggling lightly as she watched Bessie splash around in the river.

"Erm..." he floundered. "I'd just like to ask," he continued, deciding to alter his statement once he realised exactly what was happening here. "Who is Rose Tyler? Are you a guest, or...?"

"Or...? Or what? Am I servant?" she smiled, recognising his implication.

He swallowed, looking a little uncomfortable; he feared he'd offended her by making such an insinuation. "Well?"

"Does it matter?" she teased, bringing herself up to her knees and dusting herself off a little.

"Weellll, no. No, of course not. I was simply - "

" — of course it does," Miss Tyler interrupted. "You are a man of great nobility. Why should you converse with a mere serving-girl?"

He frowned at her. "It may matter to some, but not to me. I would not alter my first impression or opinion of someone purely because I found out they were of lower class to me," he scoffed at the idea.

"You are a rarity in that, then," she observed, and he could not tell whether that was a compliment or not. He believed it was, but with this girl...well, it was...just, hard to tell.

"You aren't though," he said needlessly, beginning to stand up. "A serving-girl, I mean — a rarity, you are certainly that yourself, I've never met such a woman as you. But a serving-girl, you are not."

She gestured down at herself. "I look dreadfully unkempt; my dress is muddy, my hair is in disarray, look — I have no shoes on whatsoever. Apart from perhaps my way of speaking, what is there to suggest I am more than just a servant?"

He looked down at her figure from his standing position, as if noticing her clothing for the first time, and smiled widely. "Ah yes, you do seem wonderfully messy. But I can tell you do nothing more than reading, dancing, and perhaps playing musical instruments each day, because of your hands," he explained, holding his own hands out to her in an offer of helping her stand up.

She took them, and hauled herself up to stand in front of him. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he murmured, holding up their still-joined hands. "If you scrubbed floors or washed linen or cut up vegetables on a daily basis, your hands wouldn't feel so soft."

She stared at their raised hands between them, mesmerised by his confident, easy way of speaking to her, being in her company, without fear of the consequences of such an action should it be observed by someone else.

Then he dropped her hands, and took a slight step backwards, watching her with a careful smile that he had to control — to stop it becoming a beaming grin.

Miss Tyler cleared her throat. "I have scrubbed floors in the past, Mr Smith, and washed linen, but believe me, you would not want to suffer my cooking skills. I am best kept well away from kitchens, vegetables and the various knives used to cut them up with."

Mr Smith chuckled, then looked at her suspiciously. "What happened to 'John?'"

Miss Tyler shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Right," he replied, as if he understood.

"So," she said then. "Are you to ride Arthur up to the House?"

He blinked at her, wondering why it was she was so distracting. "I'm sorry?"

"Arthur? Your horse? Will you be riding him up to the House?" she clarified.

"Well, yes. I suppose I had better arrive looking, er..."

"Dignified? Distinguished? Impressive?" Miss Tyler supplied.

"Yes," he laughed.

"Very well, then," she replied. "I shall see you at the ball tonight?"

"Oh yes," he answered enthusiastically, with a quick nod.

"You like dancing?" she asked curiously, surprised.

He wrinkled his nose up a little. "Not a great amount, no. I'm not naturally gifted in the art, let's say. I usually just stand at the side and watch," he confessed.

"Oh," she replied, hoping that maybe he would change his mind and dance on that evening's occasion.

"Well, Miss Rose Tyler, thank you for informing me of where I am going," he said warmly, before tilting his head, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to it gently. "Good day."

She smiled shyly, trying in vain to stop the blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. "Good day, Mr John Smith."

He offered her one last dazzling smile, let go of her hand, and jumped up on his horse with a flourish, before riding off towards Chiswick House. Miss Tyler watched after him, and her smile widened when he turned back to look at her over his shoulder. She waved at him briefly, laughing when he almost rode the horse into the lake, before gathering her belongings, and starting to walk in the same direction.

"It would be completely improper for a gentleman to offer a young woman a ride on his horse, of course," she muttered to herself. "So instead she must walk a mile in mud." She then smiled to herself in her happy way, and broke into a run, calling after Bessie as she sprinted past her.

Miss Tyler won her race against Bessie the dog, and returned to the House through the back door, so as to not meet with Mr Smith again; she was looking rather flushed and even more unkempt than before, and she thought perhaps her mother would have something to say about her greeting a man of ten or twelve thousand a year in such a manner...


	3. Chapter 3

It was some hours later before they caught a glimpse of each other again.

The ball commenced with great success, and there was a vast array of gentlemen to keep the pretty ladies of Leadworth entertained; despite the elusive newcomer being nowhere in sight.

As nonchalantly as she could manage, Miss Jones stepped up to her friend Miss Tyler and asked her if she knew of his whereabouts.

"I'm afraid I have no knowledge of that, Martha," answered Miss Tyler, as she scanned the room for the gentleman.

"That's such a shame," Miss Jones said. "I really wished to meet him this evening."

"I'm sure you will," Miss Tyler replied. "For we have not seen Mr Mott yet, either. So don't worry — I'm sure he will bring him along for introductions very shortly."

"I hope so," Miss Jones said, her voice wistful. "Apparently he's rich and handsome!" She was a girl of sound intelligence and an observant eye, but even she could not fail to become excitable at the notion of such a wealthy gentleman arriving in their small town.

This was the peril of being a woman, thought Miss Tyler to herself. Even the most superior in intellect become silly with ideas of winning a prosperous husband and a prosperous lifestyle to match. In this time of the inferiority of women, it is hardly surprising that this would be so, but Miss Tyler silently vowed to herself that she would not become shallow as a result of the prospect of money and pretty dresses and a fancy estate. Her mother had married for love, and so would she; whatever this cost her in terms of status or wealth.

Miss Noble entered their conversation then, having wandered from where she had been the centre of one man's attention to meet her friends and discuss said gentleman. "See that man over there?" she asked, sounding bored and irritated. Miss Tyler and Miss Jones both nodded, sharing a smile for their friend's feigned distaste. "His name's Mr Temple. He's really very persistent. I can't seem to get rid of him!"

"That's because he likes you," said Miss Tyler. "And you like him too, so don't you pretend you don't!"

Miss Noble scowled at her whilst Miss Jones laughed.

"I most certainly do not!"

"Yes you do! Go and dance with him."

"No, I shan't."

"Oh go on, Donna!" urged Miss Jones.

"No," she insisted. She lowered her voice. "I don't want to look too eager."

Miss Tyler smiled. "Ah, I see. Well, leave it until the next strike of the clock, then go over to him."

She huffed in pretence of reluctance. "Oh, alright then. If I must."

Miss Jones chuckled. "Well, I'm going to go on a hunt for this new gentleman," she said. "He must be around here somewhere."

"You should check the library," Miss Tyler suggested. He'd looked to be a bookish sort of fellow, she thought.

"Yes, excellent idea! I shall force him into coming out into society and dancing with us!"

"Good luck," Miss Tyler said, watching Miss Jones hurry off.

"Have you seen him yet?" asked Miss Noble.

"Um...well. No," Miss Tyler lied, not meeting Miss Noble's eye. "Have you?"

"Yes, actually. I saw him when he first arrived — only from the window, mind."

"Oh. What's he like?"

"Very slim. Too slim. Not like my Mr Tem - " she paused, flushing red.

Miss Tyler laughed in delight. "Your Mr Temple, eh?" she teased, nudging her with her elbow.

Miss Noble rolled her eyes and lifted her chin defiantly. "Anyway, you'll like him. Grandfather says he's very agreeable, if a little stilted amongst strangers."

Miss Tyler frowned slightly. He hadn't seemed stilted at all, earlier, when she had met him. He did, however, seem very agreeable indeed.

All of a sudden, Mr Mott opened the grand door from the hallway, and cheerfully waved them over as he and a tall man whom Miss Tyler recognised instantly entered the room.

Miss Noble sighed. "Come on, then. This is him. We had better go and introduce ourselves."

Miss Tyler's eyes twinkled in remembrance of how exactly she'd introduced herself earlier on. She wondered if he would show any hint of a prior acquaintance with her. She hoped he would not, for she had just lied to her best friend by saying she'd never met him, thus things might become awkward otherwise...

::

"Mr Smith, I'd like to introduce you to my granddaughter, Miss Donna Noble," began Mr Mott joyfully. Mr Smith turned to Miss Noble and greeted her with a tilt of his head. "And her good friend, Miss Tyler," he continued with a kindly smile.

To this second lady Mr Smith's eyes rested on only briefly, without offering even a quick smile, before he grasped his friend by the shoulder and exclaimed, "So tell me, old friend, how have you managed to acquire such an estate?" guiding him away in the opposite direction of the two women.

Miss Tyler hid a smile at her 'new' acquaintance's rudeness, turning to speak with her friend. However, before she could utter a word to guide them off the topic of the new gentleman in town, Miss Noble spoke before her.

"That was impolite," the auburn-haired young woman began. "He didn't even say hello!"

"Well, perhaps he has more important things to worry about than thinking of his manners," Miss Tyler suggested light-heartedly.

Miss Noble gave an ineloquent snort at the idea. "Yes, quite. Apparently, like I said, he is a bit...well, I'd say proud, and we could probably tell that simply from his posture and dominance in discourse when conversing with the men, but I am not sure. Something about him is pleasing, but..."

"He has a charming smile," noted Miss Tyler absently. "But I fear that, and ten thousand a year, is all he has to recommend himself to you."

"Oh, to be sure — I'd never consider marrying him!"

"Well, I know that. You have your designs on Mr Temple, Donna," she grinned.

Miss Noble profusely ignored this comment. "I merely meant that he seems like an agreeable man to know, if indeed you know him. It seems to me that he is a little reserved when speaking to those he is unacquainted with."

Miss Tyler once again thought over her previous — her first — meeting with the man (a meeting that she could not mention to anyone, even her dear friend) in which he had been confident and charming and not in the least bit shy or discontented. 

"I'm not sure reserved is the word. You had it best at impolite. Rude; but not intentionally so. I think I shall flatter us, Miss Noble," laughed Miss Tyler suddenly, in compliance with her playful disposition. "And say that I think he forgets his manners when in the company of such lovely ladies as ourselves."

"Oh yes," Miss Noble laughed with her. "That is the explanation, to be sure! Shocked into silence by our beauty!"

And the two friends spent the rest of the night dancing; Miss Noble accompanied by Mr Temple, and Miss Tyler passed from arm to arm of several gentlemen. All of whom she honestly had little to no interest in; but whenever did that matter amongst society?


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Tyler was supremely exhausted by the time the clock struck midnight. Usually, she could dance for hours, but then, that was usually with plenty of breaks in between; tonight's no shortage of partners had meant she had been dancing from the beginning of the ball until now, and she took the opportunity to escape to the quiet, dimly lit garden. She was sitting on a wooden bench on the terrace, gazing up at the stars in admiration, when she faintly registered footsteps.

"Miss Tyler," came a voice from behind her.

Miss Tyler stood hastily, a force of habit when someone surprised her, and she whirled around, the hem of her dress fluttering out prettily as she moved to face the owner of the voice.

"Mr Smith," she greeted with a smile, curtseying a little.

"I see you have escaped dancing this number," he observed, walking a few steps towards her.

"I have," she agreed, glancing back through the windows into the ballroom.

"I...I apologise for my behaviour earlier this evening," Mr Smith murmured, staring at the floor.

Miss Tyler was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat. "When I..." He lifted his head to look at her again. "When I was rude... I should have greeted you more...politely. However, I did not know what to say. It was not, as Wilfred thought, our first meeting; I was not sure what you had told your friend, but..."

"No, no, it's fine. In fact, it was perfect," Miss Tyler chuckled. "I told Donna that I'd never seen you before."

He nodded. There was a short silence, before Mr Smith finally said, "Wilfred tells me that you and your mother live here with the Nobles and himself."

She looked back at him with a smile. "Yes, we do. We owe Mr Mott a great amount. He is a good man, and has been very good to us, since my father passed away."

A frown adorned Mr Smith's face. "I'm so sorry to hear that. About your father, I mean, not Mr Mott's kindness."

Her smile widened in a thank you, and Mr Smith wondered at why such a sight made his mouth feel suddenly dry. He had noticed it earlier on in the day, at his first meeting with Miss Rose Tyler; how he found such a great delight in putting this smile on the face of this girl.

"I know for certain now that you are not a serving-girl," he observed then.

"Not that it would have mattered if I was," she reminded him good-humouredly. "In any case, I would be if it were not for Mr Mott taking Mother and I in."

Mr Smith nodded in acknowledgement.

"And besides, I am still of a lowly situation in terms of prospects," she said gravely, but there was a glint in her eyes that let him know she wasn't finding the idea half so serious as she was pretending, or as serious as no doubt others would, in her situation. "Much lower in the food chain than you, so to speak."

His left eyebrow rose at her comment, and he bit back a suggestive retort, remembering their location and the somewhat baffling fact that they had only known each other a single, solitary day. It was far too early to make flirtatious remarks. Far, far too early, in fact, seeing as it would be near impossible for their acquaintance to make any sort of progression forward; he would be leaving Leadworth in a few days anyway, and it wasn't as though he was expecting her to consider him in such a way; he'd watched her as she'd effortlessly danced with several men several times during the course of the evening, offering no time at all for him to request one.

He presumed she exuded this self-confidence and friendliness, this honesty and wit, to everyone she came in contact with; he was no one special in particular, however much she had left an imprint on him in the past few hours. He'd been flattering himself far too much to think that she might feel that same nervousness, that same excitement, around him, as he realised he felt around her.

"Miss Noble, on the other hand," Miss Tyler continued, looking away from him in apparent nonchalance and staring out across the gardens. "She has a much better chance in properly securing herself."

Mr Smith answered the affirmative, took a few steps forward and leant his elbows on the terrace wall, and also took to staring out across the garden. He glanced at the young woman over his shoulder before looking in front of him again. "You, however, have a much better chance of enticing someone in," he murmured.

Miss Tyler smiled in surprise, and joined his side. "I do not think so."

He tilted his head to observe her thoughtfully. "I do."

"No, no. I don't," she insisted, aimlessly sweeping her hand down her dress as if to smooth it out. She found herself unable to meet his eye as she teased, "For I have not auburn hair."

"Golden hair is very pretty, though," he countered, smiling a little wistfully. "And anyway, you seemed to entice in a great number of gentlemen back there in the ballroom."

Miss Tyler blushed and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in reply.

"Look at all those stars, Rose Tyler," Mr Smith whispered then, unintentionally changing the subject as he looked up at the sky. "Shining so beautifully in the night sky."

Miss Tyler shivered, and subtly moved a little closer to his side, to acquire some of his warmth. "Imagine if you could reach them," she replied softly, and Mr Smith looked down at her in admiration. "See them up close."

"Oh, it would be brilliant," he agreed. "Which one would you pick?" he asked, nudging her arm with his elbow.

She tilted her head on its side, pondering. "That one," she said after a while, pointing at her decided destination. "It shines a bit brighter than the others, don't you think?"

"Yes," he replied, watching her. "Yes, it does."

"I have not yet seen you dance, tonight, Mr Smith," observed Miss Tyler after several minutes of comfortable silence.

He chuckled, and answered, "Weelll, I have not seen you not dance, Miss Tyler."

She smiled to herself. "The ball is nearly over now."

"Yes," he replied. He cleared his throat. "Rose," he murmured.

"Yes, John?" she answered, and they turned to face one another.

"Would you like to - "

"Rose, aha! There you are!" called Mrs Tyler, as she stepped onto the patio. "Oh, hello, Mr Smith!"

He sighed and turned to greet Miss Tyler's mother with a charming smile. "Good evening, Mrs Tyler."

Mrs Tyler smiled back for a moment, her eyes looking him up and down. He shifted awkwardly under her scrutiny. Then, she seemed to shake herself out of her contemplation and addressed her daughter, "Come, come, Rose — inside!"

"Actually, Mother, I'd rather stay out here. I feel...um, quite faint, and I'd like to breathe in the fresh night air."

Mr Smith raised his eyebrows, an amused smile playing on his lips, but Mrs Tyler frowned and said, "Are you well, love?"

"I'll be fine in a moment, don't worry," Miss Tyler assured her warmly. "You go in and enjoy the rest of the ball."

"Very well, but perhaps you should retire to bed and get some rest?"

"I will, shortly. Goodnight, Mother," Miss Tyler insisted.

"All right, darling. Goodnight." She began to walk back to the doors but paused when she did not hear the gentleman following her. "Are you not coming back in, Mr Smith?"

He hesitated. "Ah..."

"He was just going for a walk, weren't you, Mr Smith?" interrupted Miss Tyler.

"Oh, very well," Mrs Tyler replied, nodding her acceptance. "Goodnight!" She finally went back inside the house.

Mr Smith turned to face Miss Tyler again. "Well, Miss Tyler, you certainly do invent stories rather well."

Miss Tyler smiled elusively and shrugged. "I've had lots of practice. It's the only way to get Mother to leave me alone half the time."

"Ah, yes. I imagine so."

They smiled at each other. "So, what was it you were going to ask me?" Miss Tyler asked Mr Smith.

He tugged at his ear bashfully. "Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to dance, but now you've told your mother these elaborate stories about fainting and walks, I do not think we can go back inside for a while."

"Then perhaps we shall have to dance out here," she replied cheekily, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth as she smiled.

His eyes widened and he laughed nervously. "If someone saw, they would consider that to be quite..." He trailed off as Miss Tyler stepped closer and took his hand.

"Then we shall hide," she grinned.

She stood on her tiptoes and was about to speak in his ear when instead, he spoke in hers, "Very well, Rose Tyler. Run!"

And then he tugged on her hand and urged her into a sprint which one was not really supposed to do in the shoes and dress she was wearing, but she did not care, and only ran faster. They slowed down when they reached the duck pond, and began to laugh as they tried to catch their breaths. Their hands were still firmly entwined, and Mr Smith looked down at them in dismay all of a sudden as he realised. He did not, however, pull away.

They could still hear the music of the ball, even this far away from the house. "Come on then, Mr Smith," she murmured breathlessly. "Show me your moves."

He raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "We are to dance, are we not?"

"If you wish," he replied, his lips quirking.

"Well, you'll find your feet at the bottom of your legs," she informed him wisely. He chuckled. "You may care to move them," she finished.

"The sorts of dances they are dancing in the ballroom require more than two partners, Rose Tyler," he murmured. "We shall cause such scandal if anyone were to see us."

"We are hiding, remember?" she countered. She placed her free hand on his arm. "Dance with me."

"I'm not very good," he protested, but his arm was already winding its way around her waist, his palm gliding upwards to rest between her shoulder blades. She gasped at the intimate contact, and he stepped closer. During every dance thus far tonight, and indeed, all her life, the closest a gentleman had got to her was a hand loosely in hers; never was it permissible for a man to step so close to her that she could feel the lapels of his jacket touching her chest. She found that it quite thrilled her.

"I don't mind," she answered quietly.

He leant into her until his lips were hovering at her temple and then he whispered, as they began to move slowly to the music, "For me, this was worth the wait though, I can assure you."

Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "Worth the wait?" she whispered.

"Yes," he whispered back, guiding her steps with his leg pressing between hers. They both swallowed hard and pretending to ignore it. "I've been waiting to dance with you all night, but several other gentlemen kept getting in my way."

"Is that so?" she giggled, drawing her head back to look him in the eye.

"Yes, Miss Tyler. It is so."

"And now you are dancing with me quite differently to any other man," she pointed out breathlessly.

"Exactly," he murmured. "That's what I meant by worth the wait, you see."

He spun them around in a quick circle then, and she squealed in surprise. "John!" she exclaimed.

"Rose," he replied, his gaze unwaveringly on her wide, happy smile.

She laughed warmly. "I think we are going to be firm friends," she declared.

"I think so, too," he answered, and he matched her smile with his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr John Smith had truly not intended to stay at Chiswick House for the duration of the month. His early plans had been to stay for a few days, to catch up with his old friend and discuss a bit of business. However, since his first night there — the ball, the people, the _dance_ — proceeded rather well, he decided that, if Mr Mott was so obliging — which he was — he would like to stay for a bit longer. A bit longer turned into a fortnight, and a fortnight turned into a month. And what a month it had been.

The picturesque surroundings, fields of verdant green and hedgerows filled with berries and birds' nests — all of this he admired greatly, after so long spent in London. It really was a charming area, with pleasant, friendly residents more than willing to converse with him wherever he went. In fact, he was surprised at how much he was being spoken to, particularly by the middle-aged women who seemed to only speak of their daughters for some reason unbeknownst to him; he was mostly used to being anonymous, conducting his business with an air of privacy that one did not acquire in such a small village, where gossip was rife and everyone knew each other well.

He could only hope that such gossip would not reveal to his new acquaintances the facets of his life which he had always tried to run from. Of course, to anyone outside of Leadworth the village held little importance, thus he felt his secrets were quite safe from revelation. No one except Mr Mott had heard of him prior to his visit, as far as he was aware; and even if Mr Mott were partial to gossip himself, which he was not, he would not be able to reveal anything startling. The two men had not seen each other for some time; he did not know any of the more recent past events in Mr Smith's life. This was how it should be, and Mr Smith would see that this continued, whatever the cost.

The House itself was a splendid place in which to reside. There were plenty of rooms to explore, and wherever he found himself he could hear laughter somewhere in the home; the sound comforted him. He had been so alone for so long, after all, and had almost forgotten what happiness sounded like.

The library was a particular favourite room of his. The sheer amount of books in there made him tingle with delight when he first stepped inside. He and Mr Mott could sit in there for hours, discussing and debating and reading. There was a piano forte in the corner of the room, which bemused him at first — weren't libraries supposed to be a place of quiet contemplation? Yet he grew accustomed to Miss Noble practicing now and then, and found it aided him in his reflection.

What entranced him most about this room, though, were two things, equal in their charm. One of these things was that sometimes, he would enter the library and find someone else in there; someone other than Mr Mott or Miss Noble. Sitting at that piano forte, her brow furrowed in frustration as she attempted to play, her fingers stumbling over the keys — sometimes melodious, sometimes hopeless. Whether adept at playing or not, Miss Tyler was a vision to behold, and numerous times he would find himself standing by the door, utterly unwilling to enter fully and announce his presence, listening and watching her try to grasp the right formulation of notes to recreate a musical masterpiece.

At one point or another, whether after seconds or minutes of him standing by the door, she would sigh and glance away from the piano, her gaze falling on him. And he would stutter a hello and quickly walk into the room, mumbling about this book or that in the hope she would not realise that he simply stood and looked at her for some time.

The other thing that entranced him about the room was the doorway to the garden. During his stay thus far the sun had been shining nearly every day, and though there had been sporadic bursts of rain, the drops had been light and the air remained warm. The grasses were a rich green, the flowers in complete bloom, and he liked how the doors from the library to the garden were near-constantly opened outwards to allow the scent of early summer to seep in, interspersing with the smell of old books and dusty shelves.

He also enjoyed the view the opened doors gave him from his comfortable position in an old armchair. When he was alone in the library, he often found himself laying the book he was currently reading on his lap in favour of looking out into the gardens and watching Miss Tyler play with Bessie the dog, or, as of late, the younger girls and boys from the village whom she had befriended; they were, he noticed, the very same poor and hungry children he had seen just before his arrival in the village, traipsing to and from the local mill a few miles away.

He suspected Miss Tyler had seen such a sight herself one day, and that she had spoken with the kind-hearted Mr Mott to ask his permission to welcome them into the gardens when they were able. Now, once or twice a week they flocked to her in boundless enthusiasm, forgoing the idea of rest from their work in favour of behaving as children should, carefree and so alive. He admired how she was able to openly exude such compassion and affection for these children who lived a life so very different from her own.

He thought that perhaps, were Miss Tyler to have a fortune to call hers rather than simply a dependence upon Mr Mott's kindness to secure her place here, she would be the sort of person to put such finances to good use, and set up a school or charity of some kind to provide for these children who had no alternative choice but to work. And he wished, for perhaps the first time, that he really did have the money everyone presumed he had, so that he could have given her the means in which to do what he honestly suspected she wanted to do.

Over the course of the last month, he liked to think that he had come to know Miss Tyler reasonably well. Of course, she would still astound him every day with some witty remark or another, but when it came to her fundamental traits and opinions, he thought he was quite proficient at reading the young woman, even after so short a time since meeting her. The proportions of his day were unequally divided, and it seemed that the most significant elements contained the company of Miss Tyler. He would eat with everyone at breakfast at 8 o'clock; yet he and Miss Tyler would meet by the cherry tree in the garden every day before breakfast to go for a brisk morning stroll. He would spend the period between breakfast and noon either in the library — alone or accompanied by Mr Mott — or in the village, acclimating himself to this lifestyle by becoming more sociable than ever before, getting to know the local residents and shops.

By lunchtime the household usually reconvened to dine together, and he would sit across from Miss Tyler, informing her of his increasing local knowledge and asking her for her opinion on those he had met. Around them, as lunch concluded, their company at the table would depart - except her mother, who rather persistently granted them with her presence. He supposed that was propriety and all, and he couldn't very well ask her to go elsewhere. He had to accept that, apart from during their morning walks which he was quite sure no one knew of, Miss Tyler and himself would not be sufficiently able to conduct a conversation that would not be overheard by one chaperone or another.

He was not certain what would become of his growing friendship with Miss Tyler. He knew that at some point he ought to leave Chiswick House for good, and return to London. However, her mother's continuous repetitions that Miss Tyler ought to start making more of an effort to make herself known amongst prospective husbands made him rather reluctant to leave.

It was quite clear that Mrs Tyler did not view him as one of these prospective husbands for her daughter. He was not sure why — he was no older than another of her suitors, so it could not be the age gap that rendered him an inappropriate choice. He was, for all intents and purposes, apparently a man of good reputation and wealth, however misguided the perception. And most of all it was quite apparent to all within Chiswick House — with the possible exception of Miss Tyler herself — that he was slightly smitten with the young woman. It appeared that despite all these redeemable features that Mrs Tyler thought him to possess, she still did not fully like him, or think him good enough.

Still, this was perhaps just as well. He had to remind himself that he was not the settling down kind, nor did he see himself living in Leadworth indefinitely for the amount of time it would take to properly woo Miss Tyler. He was also, of course, utterly unworthy of her, and it would do him well to distance himself from her in light of this fact.

Yet every day she would glance at him with her twinkling eyes and wide, joyful smile, and render him oblivious to the multitude of reasons why, instead of smiling right back, what he should really be doing is running far, far away.


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner at Chiswick House was always such a charade of great consequence. Mr John Smith did not quite understand why; dinner was food and food was necessary. All the dressing up and formalities of the affair were _not_ necessary. Still, he was a guest in his friend's home and he acted accordingly.

One particular evening, nearly six weeks after his first evening in Leadworth, Miss Tyler did not attend dinner. This was unusual, and he enquired after her health.

"Mrs Tyler, may I ask the reason for Miss Tyler's absence? Is she unwell?"

Mrs Tyler shook her head slightly. "She is not gravely ill, do not worry."

"Then where is she?" he persisted.

"She is not feeling herself. But it is nothing serious, Mr Smith."

His brow furrowed worriedly in spite of Mrs Tyler's reassurances. Dinner was presented and conversation commenced around him, but Mr Smith did not speak. Instead of eating, he pushed the food about his plate with his fork. He did not know why he felt so unsettled — perhaps it was because he had not seen Miss Tyler during the day, either.

At the beginning of the day, after waiting patiently for a little while, he had gone on his morning stroll without her. He had looked for her after returning from his unaccompanied walk, but his search was unsuccessful and he thus presumed she was visiting a friend. After all, she did, on occasion, forget to tell him when she was not going to be at the House. Now he wondered if she had simply been upstairs, feeling out of sorts, all this time.

"Everything all right, Mr Smith?" asked Mr Mott.

He looked at his friend and tried to smile. "Yes, fine, thank you."

"Something wrong with the food?" asked Mrs Noble in a prickly fashion.

"Not like you not to eat," remarked Miss Noble, fixing him with a knowing look. He wondered how it was that she could see through his futile attempts at continuing with dinner unworried about Miss Tyler.

"I'm just...not feeling very hungry," he mumbled. He stood up abruptly. "Please — forgive me my rudeness, but may I be excused?"

Mr Mott nodded amiably. "Of course, John!"

Miss Noble raised an eyebrow, hiding her smirk with her napkin.

Mrs Tyler watched Mr Smith suspiciously as he started to move out of the room. "Where are you off to, then?"

"A walk," he declared. "I need some fresh air." This met with her approval, it seemed, for she nodded agreeably, and he was free.

Once Mr Smith left the room, however, he did not make his way outside. Instead, he headed for the staircase.

When he reached the upper corridor, he pretended to walk towards his room, for propriety's sake; he'd passed a couple of maids, and it would do him no good to have them circulate inappropriate gossip. He waited until they retreated downstairs, and then proceeded to knock on what he knew to be Miss Tyler's door.

"Mother, I've told you, I shall not be attending dinner," snapped Miss Tyler from inside.

Mr Smith frowned, cleared his throat slightly, and murmured just loud enough for her to hear, "I highly resent being mistaken for your mother, Miss Tyler."

He heard her small gasp of surprise, then silence. He wondered if he had made a grave mistake in taking this liberty of coming to her room. However, within moments, she was easing open her door.

"Mr Smith," she greeted in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I..." he trailed off hopelessly, then sighed and admitted, "I was worried. You weren't at dinner — or luncheon or breakfast, for that matter - and your mother said you were ill."

"Did she?" Miss Tyler muttered, rolling her eyes. She tugged him into her room by his arm and closed the door, in case another member of the household saw him.

"Yes." He frowned, and looked her over. She was wearing a simple pale blue dress and looked as radiant as ever. "You do not look ill. Are you ill?"

She sighed, and sat down on the end of her bed. Mr Smith swallowed hard and tried not to look at her or the object she was seated upon, instead fixing his gaze on the floor.

"No, I am not ill." She seemed to remember something, then. "Oh! I'm sorry I didn't meet you for our walk today, John," she said softly.

He smiled at the wooden flooring. "You don't have to apologise. Perhaps you had a better offer?" he teased lightly.

"No, no," she giggled. "Quite the contrary. Mother wanted me to meet someone. I refused. She and I...we had a little bit of a...heated discussion, and then I...well, I..."

"Decided to brood up here all by yourself?" he prompted, finally meeting her eyes.

She flushed. "I acted childishly, I concede. But...she is so very persistent and — well, you know me, John; I can outdo her in the stubbornness stakes any day."

"That is true," he chuckled. "Who was it she wanted you to meet, anyway? Not another dreadful aunt like last week?"

Miss Tyler shuddered at the memory of having to meet some distant relative several days ago; Aunt Margaret had been the sort of middle-aged woman who, because she herself was unhappy, decided to drag everyone else down to her level of misery too. She also had a bit of a moustache, which Mr Smith pointed out to Miss Tyler at dinner on the evening of her aunt's visit in an effort to cheer her up. He liked making Miss Tyler laugh; it had become an excellent and fulfilling past-time for him.

"No, not another aunt," she murmured. She glanced away briefly and added, even more quietly, "It was a man."

"A...man?" he said, a lump coming to his throat.

"Yes," she affirmed, meeting his eye steadily.

"I take it by 'man' you mean a...a potential suitor?"

"Yes." There was a pause, before Miss Tyler hurried to fill it, "You know how Mother is about these things. Wants to marry me off as soon as possible to make sure I am...secured, or some such."

Mr Smith took a slow step towards her. "And you refused?"

"I did," Miss Tyler nodded. She stood up, uncomfortable remaining seated on her bed with Mr Smith so close.

"Why did you refuse?" he asked curiously.

"I...I don't think it's right," Miss Tyler answered, stumbling only a little over her words. "Being served up a gentleman and expected to just accept him. Like some sort of course at dinner."

Mr Smith quirked an eyebrow. "Just because the gravy is rich and the meal presentable, doesn't mean you wouldn't like to have a different choice."

"Exactly!" Miss Tyler laughed. He took another step closer to her and her laughter quieted. "Exactly..." she repeated softly.

"Miss Tyler..."

"John?" she replied, biting her lip nervously.

He stared down at her, and the seconds they spent simply standing there close together felt like they dragged on for minutes, hours. "Rose," he said hoarsely. Then he blinked and cleared his throat. "I — I shouldn't — well, that is, I should...really, I ought to..." He gestured at her door. "Go."

"Yes," she replied breathlessly. "It is rather...improper...for you to be in my bedroom."

"You let me in," he pointed out, unwilling to take the entirety of the responsibility.

"You knocked on my door," she countered.

"That is true," he replied, with a smile. "I apologise for my appalling conduct. You see, the thing is..." He glanced at the floor again. "The thing is, I have something I need to tell you."

"You do?"

"Yes. I was going to tell you this morning, during our walk, or perhaps at dinner tonight, but..."

"Then tell me now," she urged.

"I have enjoyed the last six weeks here immensely," he began, his throat dry. He met her gaze once more. "You — I feel very privileged to have spent such time in your company. We have not known each other long, but I hope you are aware that your friendship, it...means a lot to me."

Her brow crinkled in confusion. "Well, thank you, John," she replied, unsure of where this was going. "You too."

He tugged on his ear awkwardly. "You see, I was only intending to stay a few days but then those few days turned into a month and a half and...and now I have a problem."

"You do?"

"Yes. I...am finding myself rather partial to you — I mean, your home, these, er, grounds and the countryside and, well, Leadworth really is a charming little place and the residents are mostly very friendly and Mr Mott and his granddaughter in particular have made my stay here very pleasant indeed. The problem is that I do not want to leave."

She let out an anxious chuckle. "Then...don't," she suggested simply.

"But I am afraid I must," he whispered regretfully.

"May I...may I ask why?"

Mr Smith scratched the back of his neck. "There are some business matters I have been neglecting in London. I received notification via a letter yesterday that I am to depart to contend with such matters very soon."

"Oh," she mumbled, biting her lip. "When?"

Mr Smith winced. "Tomorrow."

"Oh! Well, that is...indeed, very soon."

"I am sorry to have to leave," he reiterated.

"Yes."

"But I do have to go, it is...it is necessary."

"I understand," she nodded calmly.

"I am reasonably sure Mr Mott will invite me to stay here again, at some point, but I am not certain how soon I will be able to travel back. These...business matters can often take a substantial amount of time."

"I see."

"Do not think me unkind, for leaving so abruptly," he murmured.

Miss Tyler giggled. "Don't be silly. If you have to go, you have to go. I don't condemn you for that," she smiled warmly. Then she arched an eyebrow and commented, "Oh, to be a man and have such responsibilities...I suppose I'll have to content myself with sewing and hopeless attempts at the piano while you are away."

He chuckled and nodded. "Yes, quite." He paused, and reached his hand forwards for a moment before drawing back, hesitant. "I..." he began, then altered his statement, "Perhaps I will find your music skills much improved upon my return."

"Perhaps," she laughed. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Mr Smith met her eyes steadily. "Keep laughing like that, Rose. I shall wish to hear it when I come back." His hand reached out again, and this time he was more confident, taking her hand in his. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to it. "Goodnight - "

"What time are you leaving in the morning?" she interrupted him.

"Oh, early, I should think. Which is why it is best we say goodbye now, you see."

"Have you told Mr Mott yet? And Miss Noble and everyone else?"

"No, not yet, but I'll converse with Wilfred shortly," he assured her.

"Bessie shall be sad to see you go," Miss Tyler commented next, smoothing down her dress absently when he released her hand. "She's grown quite fond of you."

Mr Smith nodded. "She's a charming little dog. You have trained her well."

"Thank you." There was a quiet interlude of speech for a moment, wherein they simply looked at each other. "Mr Smith - " Miss Tyler began, just as Mr Smith started, "Rose - "

They laughed gently and Mr Smith motioned for her to speak first.

"John," she tried again, and then floundered for a moment before continuing, "Do you think you shall be able to write to the House, while you are away?"

"Oh. Um...well, you see, I shall be travelling around a lot; I'm not sure if I'll have time."

"Oh. Right. Well, no matter," she assured him, smiling brightly.

He swallowed hard. "Rose...I — um, that is, I — well. I'll miss...Leadworth. You. I'll miss you."

Miss Tyler blushed and looked down. "I'll miss you too, John."

"Good," he smiled shyly, and then cleared his throat. "Right — I'd better go. Hopefully it shan't be too long before I'll see you again."

Miss Tyler met his gaze once more. "Goodbye, Mr Smith."

He nodded. "Goodbye, Miss Tyler." He gave her another brief, shy smile, then turned and walked out of her room.

Miss Tyler opened her mouth to call after him once more, but decided against it. She watched him close the door behind him and sank down onto her bed, heaving a regretful sigh. If only she had not been so immature today; she'd missed her last walk, breakfast, luncheon and dinner with Mr Smith without even realising it! 

She could only hope that her friend would return as he promised he would. Her astute mind, however, told her that London was full of pretty things, distracting things, and a part of her was afraid that Leadworth and Miss Tyler herself would soon be just a distant memory for the important Mr Smith.


	7. Chapter 7

Time passed. Miss Tyler received no letters from Mr Smith, just as he had told her she would not, and though she knew not to expect them, she could not help but feel disappointed. However, she continued to gain considerable attention from elsewhere, which helped ease the slight bruise to her ego that her absent friend had caused by his reluctance to contact her. 

It was flattering, having a gentleman or three call in to the House with the explicit intention of wanting to spend time with her and Miss Noble, and she found herself taking multiple turns about the garden in the wilting summer sun listening to various attempts at wooing her. Thus, in the fortnight following Mr Smith's departure, she discovered the company of others helped to distract her from his notable disappearance in her life.

Although she could not prevent herself from thinking that it was all rather tiresome.

She knew her mother was watching her avidly, of course, to see if she bore any attraction to the two naval officers and one somewhat arrogant inventor who had arrived in the village recently. Privately, Miss Tyler acknowledged that she did not regard any of the three with any remarkable romantic affection, nor did Miss Noble, who not very secretly had her heart fixed on young Mr Temple of the local mill, whom she danced with at any and every ball she attended.

The three new gentlemen, then — if they were gentlemen indeed, as Mrs Tyler professed yet Miss Tyler doubted — would be sorely disappointed, for nothing would come of their visits to Chiswick House. This generated feelings of guilt in Miss Tyler, not only for perhaps giving them false hope by entertaining her mother's tedious implorations for her to make new acquaintances, but also, for unwittingly encouraging a partial competition between the men, who each presumed that with a few well-intentioned gifts, they could win her heart. 

This was not the case, as a certain other gentleman (who Miss Tyler was completely indifferent to in such a way and was resolutely not thinking of) would attest to; she had professed to Mr Smith how she did not want to marry for anything other than love, not even if — and here she had made him laugh — not even if they bought her a mansion, a gallant horse, and some stables to keep him in.

Mr Mitchell, the aforementioned inventor and highly intellectual individual (and didn't he know it!) had begun to wear her out with his dismissive opinions about her actually rather valid views on the socio-economic issues currently prevalent in the nation. Therefore, he was not to be held in very high regard by her. 

Similarly, one of the naval officers, Mr Hart, did not appeal to her. He was flirtatious and humorous, to be sure, and these aspects of his character were not repellent to her; no, it was his callous and opportunist nature towards those around him which made her consider him unworthy of anyone's affection. In any case, to her it was plain to see that his Machiavellian tendencies would lead him into trouble one day, and though she was sure he would add a spice of adventure to her life, she was equally sure that his preferred type of adventure descended into a corruption she did not wish to be part of. Thus, he too was ruled out rather quickly.

This left only one who she genuinely liked. Granted, she liked him in a more familial way than he wanted, but he was very charming, and as time went on - and as the other two departed the village — she grew closer to the man in question, a Mr Jack Harkness, so much so that she regarded him as a dear friend within a month of meeting him.

It was this Mr Harkness whom she was conversing with in the library the day the letter arrived.

"Miss Tyler," Miss Peth, a maid at Chiswick House - who Miss Tyler had flourished a friendship with over the many years they had been in each other's company — called as she entered the room. She nodded her head towards Mr Harkness politely, continuing, "Sorry for the interruption." She glanced towards Miss Tyler and handed her a letter, trying to disguise her smile. "Miss, this is for you. It has just arrived."

Curious, Miss Tyler took the letter from Miss Peth and turned it over in her hands. Her eyebrows rose as she noticed Mr Smith's handwriting on the envelope. "Thank you, Astrid," she murmured softly.

"Something the matter?" asked Mr Harkness.

"No, no," assured Miss Tyler. She gestured towards the door. "I'll just be a moment, Jack, do excuse me." With that, she left the room, and Miss Peth hurried into the corridor with her.

Once away from Mr Harkness, and with a quick and hopeful glance at Miss Peth, who smiled at her encouragingly, Miss Tyler opened the letter. She whispered it aloud so that Miss Peth could hear; she had confided to her the desire to hear from her elusive friend, thus she felt inclined to inform her of the most recent development: -

"Miss Tyler,

Good news! Dear Wilfred has sent me notification that I am welcome back at Chiswick House should I pass by sometime soon, and as luck would have it, I shall be travelling near Leadworth very soon indeed. If you could pass on a message to him, I would be grateful — tell him that I might be there within the next week or so."

Here Miss Tyler paused in her reading to ask Miss Peth, "Why are you frowning, Astrid?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, it's just..."

"What is it?"

"I thought perhaps this letter would be a little more..."

"What?"

"Romantic."

Miss Tyler laughed. "Astrid, Mr Smith is not that way inclined, nor would I want him to be. We are merely friends; that is all. Besides, it is perfectly gentlemanly of him to write in such a way."

Miss Peth raised a dubious eyebrow. "If you say so, Rose."

Miss Tyler cleared her throat and continued: -

"Apologies for not managing to communicate with you across this enforced distance between us."

"Oh! Here we are!" exclaimed Miss Peth, excitable again.

Miss Tyler rolled her eyes. "I tried, in vain, to find the time, but circumstances here forbade me from it."

Miss Peth frowned again. "He should put in more of an effort!"

"Astrid," Miss Tyler chided. "Stop thinking of Mr Smith and I as characters from the novels you read."

"I resent that implication," Miss Peth remarked cheekily. "I rather consider you as better entertainment than the couples I read about."

"Mr Smith and I are not a couple - " Miss Tyler exasperated, just as Mr Harkness stepped forth from the library, and Miss Tyler crumpled the letter behind her back in surprise.

"Ooh, should I be jealous, ladies? Who is this Mr Smith?" Mr Harkness waggled his eyebrows. "Is this the writer of the mysterious letter you received earlier?"

Miss Peth flushed prettily in embarrassment, despite it not being her he was questioning. Contrastingly, Miss Tyler was very calm and perfectly normal in her response. She cleared her throat.

"Mr Smith is a friend of mine," she told Mr Harkness, retrieving the letter from behind her back, then deflected, "You made me jump, Jack. Stop sneaking up on me all the time!"

Mr Harkness chuckled and retorted, "You like it."

Miss Peth giggled under her breath.

"In any case, he was just writing to inform me he will be visiting us next week."

"Oh, that is a shame — I won't be able to meet the gentleman, then."

"Oh!" Miss Tyler remembered. "Oh, yes of course, you're leaving with your regiment for a while, aren't you?"

"Yes," he agreed, sighing regretfully. "I leave Friday."

"Well, be sure to send Miss Tyler letters while you are gone," piped up Miss Peth with a smile.

Miss Tyler nudged her with her elbow, but Mr Harkness replied seriously, "Of course."

"Well, I am sure that at some point your and Mr Smith's visits to Chiswick House will coincide. Until then, you will be a mystery to each other," Miss Tyler smiled.

Mr Harkness smiled back, then said, "Ladies, I'm afraid I have to run a few errands in the village, so I'll have to leave you to your musings over Mr Smith's letter."

"Oh, didn't you say you needed to go into the village earlier, Astrid?" asked Miss Tyler.

Miss Peth nodded and Miss Tyler continued, "Jack, would you mind allowing Astrid to ride in your carriage there? It's awfully grey out there; I suspect those clouds shan't retain their rain much longer."

"Why yes, of course." He bestowed a dazzling smile to Miss Peth. "You would be most welcome. Would you like to leave now?"

"If you are sure it is no trouble..." murmured Miss Peth. She glanced at Miss Tyler, who nodded in encouragement.

"It is no trouble at all." He turned back to Miss Tyler and lifted her hand to place a demure kiss to it. "Good day, Miss Tyler."

"Good day, Mr Harkness," Miss Tyler smiled. "Be sure to look after my friend!" she called after him and Miss Peth, as they left the hallway. She laughed as she heard him mutter something about which one of them was she referring to, before the door closed behind them on their way out.

Miss Tyler smiled contentedly as she returned to the library, glad of some peace and quiet to finish reading Mr Smith's letter. She started just before where she left off in her reading aloud earlier: -

_Apologies for not managing to communicate with you across this enforced distance between us. I tried, in vain, to find the time, but circumstances here forbade me from it. I regret that business in London can overwhelm my life, but it does, and though it is unfortunate, I must deal with the deck I have been given._

_That is not to say I have not thought of Leadworth. Indeed, I have thought of Leadworth very much. I can hardly wait to return, so that we may resume our friendship once more._

_Kind regards,_

_Mr J Smith._

Miss Tyler set the letter down on her lap and sat thoughtfully for a few minutes, pondering whether she ought to reply to him or not. She eventually decided that she would, and after informing Mr Mott about Mr Smith's message, she retired to her bedroom to write her correspondence.

_Mr Smith,_

_I have told Mr Mott of your plans, and he is delighted. I must say, the whole village will be delighted with your return; hardly a week passes when I do not have several comments made to me about where the dashing gentleman known as Mr Smith is, or if, when, he will be back. Naturally these comments are made to me by the well-meaning mothers and middle-aged of Leadworth, all eager for your return so that they may marry off their female relative to you, be that a daughter, niece or sister. I wonder if they shall have success...I suspect, though, that you are married to your work, are you not?_

_In any case, I shall take it upon myself to inform you of all the recent news and gossip once you have returned; but to warn you in advance, I shall tell you this now, a pre-emptive move, so to speak: my mother will no doubt throw at you a barrel-full of suspicious questions about your absence. Do not hesitate to ignore her — I will not be offended if you do, as I do not hesitate to ignore her myself. She has developed an array of possible life stories for you in her head, none of which portray you pleasantly._

_I honestly have no inkling as to why she has taken such a dislike of you, but I assure you she is the only one who does not find your presence at Chiswick House fortunate, so do not let her make you feel unwelcome when you come back. Bessie misses you the most, I think — I did tell you not to spoil her, so if she starts barking at you for treats as soon as you step through the door, you know you have no one to blame but yourself!_

_See you soon, Mr Smith,_

_Miss Tyler._

::

Some days later, Mr Smith opened her letter, and smiled. He set off for Leadworth within the hour.


	8. Chapter 8

He was rather certain that he should not be this excitable regarding his return to Leadworth. Oh, it was a charming place, of course, but it hardly had the invigorating pace of London, or the wonders of the continent. Really, barely anything happened, with the exclusion of several balls and dances. Nevertheless, he was restless on his journey, jigging his leg up and down as he travelled along cobblestone roads and dirt tracks through the countryside in an old carriage.

After a while, he could not stand the slowness of his journey a moment further. Once they stopped off at an inn to rest for the night, he told the driver of his carriage that he would be requiring his services no longer; though he did need to borrow a horse. He had left Arthur at a friend's residence near London, after an injury had rendered him unable to make the long trek to Leadworth. The driver gladly lent Mr Smith a fine black horse for a rather handsome amount of money, and agreed to continue through at his slower pace with Mr Smith's minimal luggage to arrive a little after Mr Smith would on his speedier mode of transport.

Mr Smith was all set to ride his hired horse the following morning, after spending an impatient time at the inn sketching through the night with a pencil in one hand and a drink in the other, in an attempt to ward off boredom. Indeed, it was only upon his wakening that he realised that the several drawings he had composed — which he had slept amongst, upright in an armchair, just as he was situated the night before — were all of a certain young lady. 

He tried not to acknowledge this, simply clearing his throat and putting the papers aside; this did not, however, prevent him from picking said papers back up and placing them, carefully folded, into the breast pocket of his jacket. It was not as though anyone but him would ever see them, after all, and he had depicted her likeness so very, very well on the page — at least he thought he had, from what his memory dictated. He thought that such reminders would be useful to keep a hold of, for the next time he had to depart for an extensive period of time.

::

The House was a flurry of activity. Miss Peth had been instructed by Mrs Noble to ensure she and the rest of the housemaids had swept and dusted every corner of every room and plumped every cushion and pruned every plant. Mrs Tyler sat on a chaise in the drawing room and surveyed all this arbitrary nonsense with contempt.

"He is not some sort of _Lord_ , Sylvia," she tutted, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "You needn't go to all this trouble!"

"Mrs Tyler, he is a guest! And we must treat him as such!"

"You must confess, though, Mother — you never go to this much trouble for any other guests we have," remarked Miss Noble, upon entering the room.

"He is a wealthy man!" Mrs Noble exclaimed. "I'm surprised at your lack of interest in him, Mrs Tyler! He would be a perfect match for young Rose and you know it! Why are you so reluctant to see his good attributes?"

Miss Noble raised an eyebrow at this. "That's...actually a good point. Mrs Tyler, why on Earth do you dislike the poor man so much? I'm aware he can be a bit of an arrogant muppet at times, but he has a good heart, and it cannot have escaped your notice that last time he graced us with his presence, he couldn't take his eyes off Ro - "

"A-hem," coughed Miss Tyler, stepping into the drawing room to hear what all the fuss was about. "Donna, don't encourage them. Mr Smith and I are merely friends!"

Miss Noble snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. "Oh, of course, yes; just as Mr Temple and I are 'merely friends...' at the moment!" Then she laughed loudly, and her friend scowled at her playfully, and Mrs Noble despaired at them both for being so unlike the normal young ladies of Leadworth, and Mrs Tyler yawned and began sewing.

"Now, Mother is right, you do not have to go to so much trouble just to entertain a friend," Miss Tyler said to Mrs Noble, trying to calm her down as she flitted about the room. "I had not realised you had taken to him so, in any case."

"Oh, I find him completely frustrating," admitted Mrs Noble.

"Aha! Thank you!" cried Mrs Tyler triumphantly.

"But," continued Mrs Noble, as though her friend had not interrupted, "He is a wealthy man and we have plans, have we not, Miss Tyler?"

Miss Tyler's brow furrowed deeply and she sighed. "Oh, if you are going to begin with the whole marriage thing again, Aunt Sylvia, then I shall leave the room and not return until he's gone back to London!"

"She can find a much better suitor than him!" announced Mrs Tyler, looking up from her sewing. "Now that Mr Harkness, he's a nice fellow. When is he coming back?"

"Oh, not until next month, Mother," Miss Tyler replied with a smile.

"Will you two hush about Mr Harkness for a moment," tutted Mrs Noble. "Rose, dear, I was not speaking of you marrying Mr Smith...merely, using his wealth to your advantage — you know, with your idea?"

"What idea?" asked Mrs Tyler.

"Oh," Miss Tyler realised, not answering her mother. "Well, no, I could never ask him such a thing. How improper...but hold on, when I spoke of this idea before, you told me it would be unfeasible, Aunt Sylvia — that a woman would not be able to do such a thing, or acquire any support in the matter."

"I have been thinking it over," explained Mrs Noble. "And I sincerely believe that you and Donna may be able to work something out regarding the running of the place, were Mr Smith able to provide Mr Temple with some financial support."

Miss Noble shrugged. "I suppose we could ask him if he would like to invest. Mr Temple won't mind us trying."

"But — but - " stammered Miss Tyler, unable to convey why she felt unsettled by the notion.

"What is it?"

"Yes exactly!" interrupted Mrs Tyler. "What is this secret you three are privy too, hmm?"

"Never you mind, Jacqueline," huffed Mrs Noble. "You would only discourage them."

"Why? What is it?" she persisted.

"Something that would likely make me independent, Mother, and in no need of marriage," Miss Tyler said pointedly.

Mrs Tyler frowned. "What on Earth could you do that would mean you don't need marriage?" she asked, genuinely baffled.

Her daughter sighed, and was about to reply with something rather witty when they heard the distinct sound of a horse trotting across the gravel at the front of the house.

"Oh my! Stations, everyone!" cried Mrs Noble. "The wealthy potential-benefactor has arrived!"

"Mother," hissed Miss Noble. "Don't go saying things like that when he's around, all right? Leave the business discussions between Grandad, Mr Temple and him, yes?"

"Very well," Mrs Noble nodded. "Now go and greet him! And be nice!"

"He's my friend! I'm always nice," scoffed Miss Noble. She shrugged. "Mostly."


	9. Chapter 9

"Welcome, welcome!" greeted Mrs Noble enthusiastically, as Mr Smith was shown to the drawing room by the serving girl Miss Peth, along with Miss Noble, who had greeted him outside.

Mr Smith raised his eyebrows at the zealous display and murmured his gratitude for the family allowing him to visit, before glancing around the drawing room, looking for one particular face. He frowned when he could not see it.

"Everything all right, Mr Smith?" asked Mrs Noble, worried that she had missed something in their tidying up of earlier.

He cleared his throat. "Oh yes, yes, perfectly fine," he assured her. "I was just wondering where - "

"Oh! Father is in his study, you know how he is! I'll have Miss Peth take you there."

He shook his head slightly. "No, no, it's quite all right, I remember the way. I'll, er, see you at dinner. Thank you, ladies," he bowed his head to them, and exited the drawing room.

Miss Noble pursed her lips in amusement at his haste.

"Donna? Why are you laughing?"

"I suspect, Mother, that it was not Grandfather he was looking for."

Mrs Noble frowned and turned around in a circle. "Oh. Where did Miss Tyler disappear to?"

"Exactly."

::

On his way to Mr Mott's study, he stumbled across Miss Tyler. It was a very fortuitous circumstance, for he had been meaning to find her at some point in the day, preferably sooner rather than later.

"Mr Smith, you have returned," Miss Tyler smiled, as she placed an armful of books on the table beside her.

"Yes," he murmured, simply watching her for a moment.

Miss Tyler arched an eyebrow. "What is it?"

He cleared his throat. "Nothing. Indeed, I was meaning to ask how you were. Have you been well, whilst I've been away?"

"Should I have become ill the moment you stepped out of Leadworth?" she asked wryly.

Mr Smith chuckled. "Not at all. My, I'd forgotten how quickly in the conversation you could best me."

"Well, it's not difficult to do," she teased.

His eyes widened. "I rather think I should be offended by that!"

"But you aren't."

"No. No, I'm not," he confirmed quietly.

Miss Tyler swallowed and glanced at her books for a moment. "I'd better take these back to the library…"

"Right, yes, of course! I ought to find Mr Mott, anyway," he nodded quickly.

She picked up the pile of books again, about to leave, before asking, "Is this a fleeting visit? Only Miss Peth informs me that you have no luggage, yet I'd assumed by your letter you meant to stay with us awhile?"

"Ah yes, my luggage is following me here via carriage," he assured her quickly. "I'm not sure how long I shall stay — as long as Wilfred allows me to, I'd wager."

Miss Tyler nodded amiably. "I'm pleased."

He quirked an eyebrow, absurdly chuffed at her response. "Is that so?"

"Yes," she nodded again, and his grin widened, but then she continued, "For if you stay for a while it is likely you'll be able to meet Mr Harkness when he returns from his post."

The grin faded from Mr Smith's face. "Mr…Harkness? Who's he, then?"

"He's a friend of mine and Donna's who has been staying with us for a month or so. He left yesterday with his regiment," Miss Tyler explained.

"Oh."

"He was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to meet you this time, but assures me that he'll hurry back as soon as he is able. Then you can make each other's acquaintance."

"Mmm," Mr Smith agreed, smiling tightly. "Can't wait."

"Excellent! We shall all be the best of friends. Now, if you'll excuse me - "

He swiftly interrupted her before she could leave. "- Rose?"

She blinked in surprise at his uncomfortable expression. "Yes?"

Mr Smith reached a hand up to tug on his ear. "I was just…well, I was wondering…" He cleared his throat then lowered his voice to murmur, "In the morning, before breakfast, would you like to recommence our stroll through the gardens together?"

"If that pleases you," she replied eagerly.

"Well, yes. But do you wish to?"

"Oh indeed, Mr Smith," she smiled, and he sighed in relief because it was that smile. The smile he'd drawn so effortlessly the night before. The smile he'd seen directed at him so often during his earlier stay at Chiswick House. "I wish it very much. We have much to talk about!"

"Quite right," he replied. He nodded in the direction of Mr Mott's study. "I'll go and say hello to Wilfred now."

"And I'll go to the library," she replied, still smiling. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"Oh yes," he confirmed, as he watched her nod and walk away. And he murmured to himself, "Yes indeed."


End file.
